


Give her to another

by Ryxl



Series: Ryxlverse [2]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Blood, Gen, Original Character(s), Raptors, Short, not the best mother, this is where Grom'Gol comes from, wild jungle child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 05:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/744607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryxl/pseuds/Ryxl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kalika Ironheart earned her surname long before the Dark Portal opened. As much as Ryxl hates Rend Blackhand, her mother hated him more...and was willing to do whatever it took to keep him from getting the Champion conceived on her through dark magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Maybe, just maybe...

The ancient troll held the baby gently in his leathery hands, turning it this way and that.

“Well? Can you do anything about it?”

The troll shaman looked up at the impatient orc woman, lips stretched around worn tusks in what was supposed to be a reassuring smile. “Da voodoo, it be strong. Dere be no way ta break it. She gonna be bound by dis spell for da entirety o’ her life.”

“Give me the child,” the orc demanded angrily. “I won’t have her become a weapon of that honorless coward.”

“An’ whatchoo gonna do about it, den, mon?” The troll’s voice sank into a quiet hiss, hands still curled securely around the infant.

“The magic wouldn’t let me kill her while she was still inside me. She has no such protection anymore.”

The troll’s grin widened. “Ahhh, an dere be da answer. Da only way ta save her an’ make sure she not be a slave ta ya enemy be ta let her go, give her up an’ make her a slave ta anot’er.”

The orc jerked in surprise. “Is that possible?”

Once more the troll’s hands wandered over the small green body. “Da voodoo, it be a tricky ting. Slippery-like, ya mon? But we can turn dat ta our advantage. Joo be willin’ ta give her life ta anot’er, give up all claim on her?”

“If it keeps her out of Blackhand’s clutches,” the orc growled. “I’d lay down my life as well as hers to make sure he never gets his precious Champion from me.”

“Dat be a good ting,” the shaman said. “Joo may need ta do dat.”

If this surprised the orc, she didn’t show it. “So who do I give her to, then?”

“Da priests, dey give part o’ dere souls to da loa dey serve. Da loa own dem, body an’ soul, until dey die.”

“So she’ll be a priest to one of your gods?”

“It not be dat easy, mon. Da loa, dey won’t take worshippers not o’ da tribes. But dere be one loa who refuse ta take worshippers _from_ da tribes. You gonna give your bebe ta him. Mebbe he let his children eat her. Mebbe he refuse her. But mebbe, jus’ mebbe, he take her an’ give her back. He do dat, an’ joo know she belong ta him.”

“And then what do I do?” the orc asked, cautiously taking her child back from the old troll.

“Joo raise her. Teach her da best joo can. We be teachin’ her, too. She gonna be a weapon, dat can’t be changed. But we gonna make her da best weapon she can be, an’ wit’ luck she become someone _else’s_ weapon, ya mon?”

The orc’s jaw clenched with iron determination. “And if not, I’ll kill her before she can serve Blackhand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given that Gonk is well aware of the troll tribes, and raptors are present in nearly every troll area but there is no Priest or Priestess of the Raptor God, I'm assuming that Gonk has expressed unhappiness with any troll seeking his blessing.


	2. Bites-throats

Se’jib watched silently from the steps of his hut as the raptor approached. The years had taught South River Pack that although not a predator, the lone troll in his raised hut was not prey. Once the raptor got close enough for Se’jib to make out details through the gloom, he could see that it was a female with something held in her claws. Something that wriggled slightly.

The raptor barked out a series of growling, whining sounds, arms thrust out for him to take the orcish baby they held. The spirits whispered meaning onto his ear: _Dark, mother claim hatchling._

Se’jib smiled around his tusks as he took the child. “I’ll make sure she understands,” he assured the hulking creature, the spirits translating for him. _Packleader discipline mother._

The female raptor snorted once in appeased disdain and ran back off into the dusk.

“Your mother tried to kill you,” he purred to the child in his arms. “Brought you to a nest of raptors, left you to die. But raptors are not simple beasts; you have been accepted, and now she will have to keep her end of the bargain.” One thin finger caressed the baby’s forehead and cheeks until she opened her eyes. “Blue? That’s not what they were before.” Chuckling, he ambled into the jungle towards the nearby village. “You belong to Gonk, young one. He put his mark on you. Blue eyes…” His lips split into a wide grin. “Red raptors are rare around these parts. You’ve got quite a path ahead of you.”

The baby gurgled.

* * *

 

Kalika Ironheart accepted her child with a stoic expression, ignoring the unnerving way the old troll was grinning.

“You be givin’ her, an’ he be givin’ her back – wit’ his mark. You made a promise.”

“I did,” she ground out, “and I will honor it. What comes next?”

“She be needin’ a name. Da raptors, dey be willin’ to watch an’ feed her durin’ da day, but you be needin’ to pick her up at night.” His eyes narrowed in amusement. “A side o’ meat every ot’er day not gonna hurt matters.”

“Paying them for their time? Fine.” The orc woman stared stonily at the child she’d tended for the last year, unnamed according to orcish custom. Today was to have been the day when she would be given a name – assuming the raptors didn’t eat her, which they hadn’t. After a moment, her mouth twisted into a toothy grin. “Rhksll,” she choked. “The sound your father made with my dagger in his throat. The last sound he made. That’s what he said he’d name you, so that’s the name you’ll carry.”

“I be lettin’ da elders know,” the old troll purred, ambling off into the night. 

* * *

 

“Rrr, kssss, lll,” the child enunciated insistently, pointing with her stick to each of the three runes scratched into the bare earth. “That’s my name. Ryxl. It’s the sound my father made with my mother’s dagger in his throat.” Grinning, she made a strangled sound and clawed at her neck. “See? _Rhksll!_ ”

The raptor hatchlings lined up in front of her cooed their appreciation for her performance.

_Identity!_ The orc child barked, grinning.

_Rhksll, rhksll, rhksll!_ The hatchlings chorused.

_Hatchlings come,_ barkedthe young adult watching them. _Follow_.

Obediently, Ryxl and her companions fell into line behind their babysitter as he led the way back to South River Pack’s nest site. Suddenly, he barked out, _Danger!_ Well-trained, they dove beneath the nearest bush and huddled together, very still and quiet, while the young adult dashed off shouting for hunters to aid the hatchlings. A few moments later, trollish footsteps sounded faintly, and unfamiliar feet landed on the jungle floor. Ryxl drew her mother’s dagger slowly, pushing the other hatchlings behind her. The feet went one way, then the other, following their trail…and came to a stop by the bush that hid orc-child and raptor-children. One knee. A hand reaching out. And then, an unfamiliar face grinning at his luck in being able to snatch a raptor hatchling without tangling with the pack.

Ryxl lashed out, the blade of her dagger buried in the troll’s throat. He choked, lifeblood spilling from the wound. As one, Ryxl and the hatchlings rushed forward to drink the treat before it was lost to the thirsty soil, but she snarled and they fell back obediently. She only got a few licks before the hunting-pack ran up.

_Report!_ The alpha hunter barked.

Ryxl stood up and pointed proudly at the troll’s ravaged throat, her mouth red with his blood. _Rhksll,_ she explained, miming the stab.

_Rhksll,_ the alpha hunter repeated slowly. She nuzzled the wound, miming biting it. _Rhksll. Throat-bite-kill._

The hatchlings cheered as meaning suddenly attached to the sound. _Rhksll! Bites-throats! Bites-throats!_

Bites-throats grinned broadly, dagger held proudly aloft. _BITES-THROATS!  
_

* * *

 

“Mama, mama, I have a name!”

Kalika glanced impatiently at her daughter. “I know you have a name.”

“My name is Bites-throats.”

“Your name is Ryxl.”

“That’s what I said! But in raptor-speak, it means _bites throats_.”

The orc woman rolled her eyes. “And why does it mean that?”

“Because that’s what I did! A bad troll was trying to steal the hatchlings, but I stuck your dagger in his throat and he said my name and died and I drank the blood and now the whole pack knows that my name is Bites Throats!”

Kalika Ironheart stopped dead to stare at her daughter. “A troll was trying to steal the hatchlings, and you killed him?”

Ryxl nodded. Her mother wasn’t sure if what she felt was pride, horror, or both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's more than enough evidence in various quests to suggest that raptors are, in fact, sentient with a primitive culture. For example: the Venomhide Ravasaur dailies; the stolen silver questline in the Barrens; the ogre in Dustwallow Marsh who sends you to find raptor feathers because they have strong magic in them. I've fleshed that out a bit to include a naming tradition - raptors earn names only when they become so good at something that they become synonymous with it. Takk, for example - "the Leaper" isn't a title, it's a translation.


	3. The hand that controls her

“The trolls say the ship will be sea-worthy in another week.”

The orc woman grunted. “Good. The sooner, the better.”

“Want to get out of this miserable jungle?” The male orc nodded sympathetically. “Can’t blame you.”

“No. I’m not leaving.”

Kortuk of the Bleeding Hollow clan raised one eyebrow. “Then…?”

“My daughter. I want her delivered to Doomhammer as soon as possible.”

“That may be a problem. Doomhammer fell in battle months ago.”

Kalika jerked as if stabbed. “What? Then who leads the Horde?”

“The son of Durotan,” the other orc said with pride. “He’s a shaman, and a powerful one.”

“Is he honorable?” the orc woman demanded, hands in his shirt.

“Of course – Doomhammer never would have passed the title on to him otherwise.”

Kalika glowered, but released him. “Well, anything’s better than letting Rend get his black hands on her.”

“What do you mean? What’s this about Rend?”

Angrily, the self-exiled Dragonmaw explained what had transpired with her clan and the Blackrocks since the end of the Second War.

“I’ll make sure Warchief Thrall knows,” Kortuk promised grimly. “But what’s the deal with your daughter? I didn’t know you had one.”

“She’s a weapon,” Kalika said shortly. “One that I won’t let fall into the wrong hands. I’ll kill her first – while I still can,” she muttered.

“Come on, Kalika. She’s just a child, how dangerous-”

“She’s killed her first man.”

The other orc’s eyes widened. “She’s _how_ old?”

“Twelve.”

“Impressive.”

“She killed him when she was six.”

The Bleeding Hollow orc gaped. “Was it an accident?”

Kalika bared her teeth in a bloodthirsty grin. “Stuck my dagger in his throat. I taught her well.”

“A warrior, then. But I still don’t see-”

Kalika’s gesture cut him off. “She’s not a warrior, she’s a weapon looking for a hand to wield her. You remember the reputation I had?”

 

_She walks towards the throne Blackhand has claimed, hand dipping into the bag at her side. She brings her arm back and whips it forward, the object rolling ahead of her steady pace to bump against the first step. He stands, descends, picks it up by the hair and laughs into the face of his daughter's severed head._

_"Get someone else to do your dirty work from now on," she says as she stops directly in front of him._

_He laughs again, the other hand snaking around to her bottom, but the point of the dagger suddenly against his throat kills the laugh._

_"That counts as dirty work."_

Kortuk nodded. “How could I not?”

“Some day, I will be remembered only as the mother of my daughter.” The Dragonmaw closed her eyes and shuddered briefly. “I only hope that legacy is one of honor and glory instead of slaughter and atrocities.”

“You think that’s a possibility?”

Kalika scowled. “That depends on the hand that controls her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a mission in Warcraft: Orcs and Humans where the daughter of Blackhand the Destroyer has run off, and you-the-player are sent to bring her head back. I attributed this to Kalika.


End file.
